


stakeholder engagement

by rqtheory



Series: hold it, hold it, hold it steady [4]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Fantasizing and breakfast what a combo, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-20 21:56:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11930085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rqtheory/pseuds/rqtheory
Summary: The morning after the night before.





	stakeholder engagement

Brad awoke to two realisations. The first was that he was probably going to have to run some serious damage control; he wrote the employee fraternisation policy and he knew it inside out, so anyone trying to seriously build a case against him would have their work cut out for them - not that anyone would, the HR team were, even if he said so himself, staunchly loyal to him first and foremost, because he cared about them in return, because he’s a good boss, dammit - but it made sense to head it off at the pass, in any event.

The second was that he was alone.

It wasn’t unexpected, was the thing. He honestly hadn’t approached Taako last night with any intentions other than making him squirm, because it had been a secret, sharp delight watching him scramble for excuses about those silly post-its. (He had long since come to terms with that situation from his perspective being a temporary bout of unprofessional behaviour brought on by the stress of quarterly reports.) But then - Taako had played along. Challenged him, even. The professional thing would absolutely have been to de-escalate the situation and leave as quickly as possible, but the professional thing had quickly and completely lost an internal battle against the- Brad thing.

And so.

He’d had no illusions about what it meant. No, it wasn’t unexpected, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t ruefully considering how the morning could have gone if he’d made it explicit that he was an early riser in lots of different ways. Which- well, he was thinking about it now, so-

He rolled over onto his back, idly palming his cock through the much-maligned pyjamas, thinking about the previous night - how, once he managed to push through the initial _intransigence_ (the small part of his brain still operating at a higher level made a mental note to put that on Taako’s personnel file), he’d been - pliable. Easily led, even.

The thought sparked up a certain anticipation which he’d honestly missed, and he found himself wondering - with not a small amount of guilt, but not enough to put professionalism back in charge - how to bring about a third interaction. And then he got momentarily sidetracked imagining how that might play out, and was touching himself with intent when he heard a crash from outside the room, which immediately deflated the mood.

If he was a more anxious man he'd be walking out into his living area armed with whatever he could find, but he was more curious than anything - the moon was a self-selecting kind of environment and while the odd office spat was unavoidable, an actual break-and-enter was unlikely. So he cautiously - with a bit of regret for the slow morning fantasising he was about to forego and employing a great deal of self-control - clambered out of bed and made his way across the room.

He was right, of course; he swung the door open as quietly as possible and leaned against the doorframe, watching as Taako ricocheted around the kitchenette, more utensils than he had hands flying through the air, both of Brad's standard-issue frying pans in use making what smelled like pancakes.

"Good morning," he said, and suppressed a smile when Taako whirled to look at him. "You're a vision."

It came out far more genuine than he intended. Taako was wearing an old green t-shirt Brad picked up in a bag of freebies for attending a conference a few years ago now - it said ‘Developing a High Performance Culture’ which he’d found amusing on multiple levels last night when he was digging through his drawers to find something for his sudden houseguest to wear to bed. Taako hadn’t even bothered to look at it before throwing it over his head and immediately falling face-down into the pillows on Brad’s side of the bed, which had multiplied the amusement significantly. Part of him had entertained the thought of pointing out the slogan to Taako with some kind of line about the evening being an excellent demonstration of his commitment to his own high performance, but-

It was a couple of years old now, gone soft and frayed around the edges, enormous in the way that freebie t-shirts often were, and it was slipping down over Taako’s shoulder, his collarbone standing out in sharp relief. His hair was mussed and his eyes still soft with sleep despite the small smirk on his face, and there was the barest edge of a bite mark on his thigh visible below the hem of the shirt, and-

“You made me breakfast,” he heard himself say, interrupting his train of thought before it could go somewhere utterly incriminating. The fantasy Nespresso whirred in the background.

Taako snorted. “I made myself breakfast. You’re just here.”

“I live here,” Brad pointed out mildly.

“Do you want a pancake or not? It kinda sounds like maybe you don’t.”

Brad held up his hands, placating, with a smile. “Pancakes sound great, thanks.” He made his way into the kitchen, sliding past Taako at closer quarters than was really necessary. Taako shot him a suspicious look, then shrugged and continued what he was doing. There were ingredients everywhere - Brad was honestly surprised there was no batter on any of the cupboard doors - but everything smelled good.

Taako poked at something in one of the frying pans, before making a small noise of satisfaction and pointing at Brad’s pantry. “Any good toppings in there or do you only have things from the boring rungs of the food pyramid?”

Brad laughed. “I’ve got nutella?”

“That’ll do,” Taako said, clearly pleased, and Brad duly went to collect it. He turned to look at Taako who’d gone back to the stove, expertly flipping a pancake onto a waiting plate and pouring a new one, and saw - another flower-petal bruise, blooming just under the collar of the shirt, on the back of Taako’s neck. He tried very hard not to stare, unscrewing the lid absently, and held out the jar. “Here.”

Taako took it without looking at him, and dumped a peremptory spoonful into the middle of the pancake, before topping it off with extra batter. “Better stuffed.”

He couldn’t honestly have ignored that. “Yes, I think that’s been established.”

Taako glared at him. “Really? Really. It’s too early for your filth, Bradson.” He stuck the nutella spoon in his mouth - not with any obvious intent, but then, Brad was quickly learning not to make any assumptions. Which of course, he immediately went and did when Taako pulled the spoon back out of his mouth and left a smudge of nutella at the corner of his mouth and Brad couldn’t help himself - he swept down into Taako’s space to plant a kiss on the side of his face, and was unceremoniously shoved backwards, a batter-encrusted ladle pointed threateningly at his face.

“What are you doing?” Taako said, sharply, expression distrustful.

Brad blinked at him and put his hands up in the same placatory gesture as before. “You had some. Nutella. On your face, there.”

Taako wiped at his mouth with his thumb. The ladle remained where it was, slowly dripping batter onto the tiles. “What’s with the corny bullshit.”

Suddenly sensing the presence of a hair-trigger trap, Brad kept his smile as small as possible as he said, “I just can’t bear to see nutella go to waste.” He gestured at the stove. “You might need to flip that.”

Taako picked up the frying pan with his spare hand and flipped the pancake without really looking at it, but he lowered the ladle as he did so. “You’re talking absolute crapola, my man.”

“You caught me,” Brad said amiably. “I was just trying to get my hands on your ass.”

Taako snorted a laugh and turned back to the stove, hostility defused. “Yeah, that I’d believe. Perv.”

Brad pushed back hard against the part of him that wanted, immediately and keenly, to take Taako to task for that; firmly reminded himself that there was an Important Discussion to be had before he indulged in any of that. Instead he just schooled his face into neutrality and leaned over to grab a dishcloth to clean up the floor.

“So,” Taako said, looking briefly back over his shoulder to make eye contact as Brad rinsed out the cloth and poured a now luke-warm coffee. “Are you gonna get in trouble for this?”

Brad hummed. “Are you going to report me?”

Taako looked vaguely scandalised. “Taako’s no narc.”

“Well,” Brad started, “it’s fairly unorthodox but I’m afraid there’s no obligation on me to report anything unless it causes an actual conflict of interest. And since you and your coworkers’ status as critical manpower means it’s the Director who signs off on all of your paperwork,” he shrugged. “No conflict.”

“Critical manpower?” Taako chuckled to himself, a real laugh. It was - nice. Brad wouldn’t mind hearing it again. He wouldn’t mind making it happen, himself. “I’m going to tell Magnus that. He’ll make it his new nickname.” He flipped another pancake, transferring it to the rapidly-growing stack. “But, hold on. You signed off on all our maintenance forms.”

Brad kept his face straight as he said, “Yes, Lucretia delegates her authority for various works at the Bureau to me.”

Taako paused, turned. Put a hand on his hip. “Bradson.”

“Yes?”

“That sounds like a conflict of interest.”

“Well.” Brad looked down at his hands. Claws filed down (easier to type). “Perceived, perhaps. But technically speaking, it doesn’t qualify as an actual conflict.” He shot Taako a grin. “I wrote the definition of conflict of interest in the policy, you see.”

Taako stared at him a moment longer, then turned back to the stove, cutting off the gas. “Huh. I was right about you.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re not boring at all. It’s a front. You know all these stupid rules just so you can get around them.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Brad said blandly, making his way around the other side of the counter and dragging a bar stool up to the bench. “I’ve only got respect for the rules and regulations of the Bureau.”

Taako snorted, crossed the kitchen and pushed a plate of pancakes in Brad’s direction. “Your breakfast, Sir Rules-a-Lot.”

“Thank you,” he said, meaning it. “This is very sweet.”

Taako rolled his eyes, also making his way around the counter and pulling up a stool. “Don’t overdo it. I did this for me, bubbeleh. Like I said, you’re just here.”

“And happy to be,” Brad said, letting his voice drip with sincerity. Taako groaned and put his face down on the counter, hands covering the back of his head.

“You’re such a nerd! Every time I think you’re gonna be cool you say something fucking dorky. Gods.” His voice was muffled against the benchtop. The tshirt was pulled down at the back and Brad’s attention immediately caught and held on the dusting of golden hair on the nape of his neck. “Who are you?”

Brad cut off a slice of pancake, chewed thoughtfully. It was very good, but he hadn’t expected any differently. “I suppose I’m the guy who fucked you last night.”

A choked noise of outrage as he lifted his head up again, scowling, but there was certainly a smile in his eyes. “Bradson. I know I could report you for that.”

Brad lifted a hand slowly towards Taako’s face. His eyes tracked it, but he didn’t move away, so Brad took it as permission to settle his hand on the side of Taako’s neck, stroking a thumb along his jawline and up to his earlobe, the barest of touches which still won him a shudder. “You could. But that would preclude a repeat performance.”

“Well.” He leaned into the touch, just barely, before batting Brad’s hand away with an annoyed sigh. “I’ll keep my options open for now, then.”

**Author's Note:**

> how 2 engage ur stakeholders: show them a good time


End file.
